


Your Natural State

by PurpleFluffyCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Belly Kink, Body Image, Body Positivity, Chubby Neville, Chubby Neville Fest, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Het, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, belly love, fat appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleFluffyCat/pseuds/PurpleFluffyCat
Summary: In the year since the final battle, Neville has gained back all of the weight he lost fighting the Death Eaters, and probably plenty more, besides. At first, he feels self-conscious about it, but Luna has distinctly other ideas...





	Your Natural State

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Chubby Neville Minifest on AO3, this features Neville's mental path from body-negativity to body-positivity. Luna shows him the way - and a good time, besides. ;-)

Neville Longbottom looked in the mirror, and sighed. His reflection, clad just in boxer shorts, sighed back; the expansion-slump-wobble served only to emphasise his chubbiness.

It had been a year since the war had ended. Neville was standing in the bedroom of his little London flat – bought with the inheritance his parents had put aside for when he came of age, topped up with the prize money from his Order of Merlin, Second Class. He had just been getting ready to meet his wonderful girlfriend at the station, when he had caught his reflection in passing. 

Not being a vain sort, Neville didn't usually dwell much on his appearance. Why would he? He had never supposed he was much to look at.

Such inattention paved the way to surprises, though – and it seemed that changes had been creeping up on Neville in the months since the war. The image before him was tubbier, rounder and softer than he had ever imagined. 

Any muscles he might have had were now buried beneath layers of soft fat. His upper arms were chunky, with undersides that jiggled when he lifted them. His face was haloed by a softening jawline; a second chin was gathering there, and led down to a mounded chest with rosy nipples. His thighs were rubbing together on their inner sides, and gave out to well-padded hips and a wide, plush arse.

Most notable of all, though, thought Neville, was his stomach: pink and wobbly and _huge_ , so it seemed. His belly crested out from beneath his chest and hung over the waistband of his boxers. The boxers in question were obviously too tight, now, pushed down low beneath his gut and digging in to the ripe flesh at his sides; they marked out the thick spare tyres there with merciless clarity. His navel was deep and drooping slightly downwards, between the plump mounds of his belly above and below.

Luna had been away for the past month, looking after her father. She was due to return that afternoon, and Neville had been _so_ looking forward to meeting her.

He gazed at his belly again. It seemed to be a blancmange pumpkin staring back at him; so vast and flabby. He couldn't let Luna see it; she'd hate it.

It wasn't even as if he was a macho, large sort of chap, reflected Neville – like Bill Weasley, or Kingsley Shacklebolt, say. Both of those men had a bit of a paunch, it was true, but it was backed up with a barrel chest and cast-iron biceps and so much general _manliness_ , it just looked right, somehow. Frowning at the mirror again, Neville thought he just looked like a chubby boy – soft, pink skin over pillows of extra padding, everywhere it wasn't supposed to be.

Neville sighed again. Indeed, he thought, he had _always_ been a plump boy.

He had not been a _very_ greedy child; he had not had the chance. He had always really liked cakes and puddings and sweets when he could find them, though – and relished the chance to munch happily. No, it was more just the way he was made. Some children charged around, burning up their energy. Neville had been more likely to sit quietly with a colouring book or a toy farmyard, his body a little butterball. Everything that he had eaten just seemed to stick to him – it was just the way he was.

His grandmother had hated it. Sometimes, she had announced that she was putting Neville on a diet, and that had made him really miserable. He had assumed, from what he'd learned at primary school, that it was for his health. It was only years later at Hogwarts, when Neville had learned that for wizards – unlike Muggles – there is no link between weight and wellbeing, that he had realised it had been only about how he had looked. And that had hurt, quite a bit.

Neville's grandfather – before he had died, that is – had been much more indulgent. Neville and he sometimes went away to the seaside for a long weekend, or even a fortnight, just the two of them, while Grandmother organised one of her Witches' Society Floristry Weekends. Neville would be treated to chips and candies and toffee apples and pancakes and sweets that melted in his hands so quickly he had to rush to eat them, all while his grandfather smiled and laughed, and they made sandcastles together and rode on the carousel. When they got back, Neville would invariably be plumper than usual, and his non-holiday clothes would be uncomfortably tight. "Oh, go on, Agatha, let-out the boy's trousers," his grandfather would say, looking sympathetically at the waistband that cut Neville's round little tummy in two.

His grandmother would shake her head sharply and tut-tut. "Boys who have grown too fat for their breeches do not deserve to be comfortable," she decreed – and that was that.

When Neville had started at Hogwarts, he had been very grateful for two things: the amazing puddings that were served every night, which seemed to just melt on his tongue; and the chance to learn his own expansion charms. 

Habitually adjusting his own clothing whenever it got a bit snug had seen Neville through school – except in the year of darkness, that is, when the resistance work had been so stressful, he had lost his appetite. He had never eaten less on purpose – he was just so worried, and active, and on edge, he couldn't bring himself to enjoy his food like he usually would. So, during that year, Neville had been had been... not 'thin'. No; he could never be one of those gaunt, dashing, artistic types. But not 'plump', either. He had actually had to _take in_ some of his trousers to stop them from falling down. Neville supposed he had been kind of 'normal sized', then – and although he had never actually imagined he would be so lucky as to get a girlfriend of his own - he figured that it was probably no coincidence that the year he _hadn't_ been particularly chubby had been the year that amazing, beautiful, transcendental girl had deigned to enter his life. He and Luna had become intimate at the time of highest danger and camaraderie, when – Neville glared at his reflection – he had probably been at his thinnest.

With all those thoughts whirring in his mind, Neville stared at his body with rising panic. Luna had never seen him unclothed and tubby before, he reckoned, and she surely would be put off. The thought made Neville feel very miserable, indeed.

Desperately, he wondered how it had happened. Neville rolled his eyes. Actually, he knew _exactly_ how it had happened: celebratory pints in the Three Broomsticks with Harry; the delight he had felt when his favourite purveyor of pumpkin pasties reopened after the war; being offered seconds and thirds of Molly Weasley's home cooking; the monthly delivery from Honeydukes to which he had treated himself for slaying Nagini; walking hand-in-hand with Luna to Florean Fortescue's for his favourite sundae piled high with whipped cream; grazing contentedly on sugared treats while studying for his Certificate of Advanced Herbology. The evidence of all of those cheerful, smiling times had settled softly on his body, making his upper arms squishy and his thighs start to dimple.

Inquisitively, Neville turned to the side. _Oh, Merlin._ His stomach seemed to stick out so far before him, from that angle. He ran a hand over it, cringing at the big arc; at how it protruded. There seemed to be great handfuls of flesh, there: he moved a little, and his sides creased into succulent rolls; the overhang of his belly bobbed and Neville grabbed at it, feeling his palms fill with his own fat.

With panic climbing further, Neville emptied his lungs of air, and tried to suck in his gut. It helped, perhaps, but only a little - and he couldn't hold the pose for long before his belly flopped back out again; his tummy muscles strained under such unaccustomed use.

"Why, hello there!"

Neville gasped, and snatched for his dressing gown on the bed. He didn't have time to put it on, but covered his body with it, from neck to knees.

"You're early!"

"Yes. Father was going off to see some friends today, so I caught the Knight Bus instead of waiting for the train." Luna frowned. "Aren't you pleased to see me?"

"Of course I am." He meant it, really he did, and felt guilty for his accusatory tone seconds before. Neville also felt much too awkward, though, to rush forward and embrace her as he usually would.

"And I, you," Luna replied, seriously. She noticed the tension in his face. "Oh, dear. Neville, what's wrong?"

Clinging to his dressing gown as if it were his wand and she were a Death Eater, Neville replied: "Oh, it's nothing."

Luna regarded him kindly, but with the perfect understanding that he was obscurating, and she was going to wait with complete patience for him to tell the truth.

Neville knew there was no point in trying to hide things from Luna. He gave a massive sigh. "I just noticed... that I seem to have put on a lot of weight." He felt his cheeks flush as he admitted it, and looked at the floor.

"Oh, yes," replied Luna, brightly. "I've been looking forward to the chance to really get to appreciate it!"

That snapped Neville out of his reverie, and he looked at Luna squarely. At first, he assumed that she had to be joking – but as ever with Luna when she said the most surprising things, there wasn't a trace of humour or subterfuge to be found. It was one of the things that he loved most about her.

"...Sorry?" was all that Neville managed. Then, he processed her words for a second time, and a fresh worry occurred to him. "You _knew?_ "

Luna nodded, still with happy enthusiasm. "I've noticed you getting a bit plumper each month since the war ended. But as I've been away for four or five weeks, I was wondering whether you'd gained some more pounds in that time, and it would be a surprise. Looks like you have, then?"

Neville thought ruefully of all of the roast dinners, happy nights out and cheerful nights in he had enjoyed with his friends while she had been away – all with lashings of pastry, pudding and custard. He thought of the Honeydukes dish that he had munched through practically every afternoon, while he had been studying. Come to mention it, Neville realised that he'd been absent-mindedly expanding his trousers nearly every day, for added comfort. How could he have been _so_ oblivious? 

"I should think so," he admitted, feeling himself flushing scarlet, "quite a lot". Then, he began to gibber. "I'm sorry Luna; I really am. I'll lose weight, I promise. I'll stop eating, and go running, and..." Neville trailed off, feeling really downcast. He hated the idea of starving himself – cutting out all of the happiness that food and drink gave him – feeling hungry all the time, when he liked to feel contentedly full; puffing around a sports track where he had never been comfortable, maybe even having to do stomach crunches, which would really hurt, and...

...it took him far too long, with his glum train of thought, to notice that - rather than appearing vindicated - Luna looked rather disappointed. "Ok," she said, a little sadly. "If that's what you want - of course, you should do what makes you happy, my dear. But please don't change yourself on my account, will you?"

Neville wondered if he was being slower than usual. "You mean you... don't... mind?" he asked, almost certain that he'd got something wrong.

"Mind?" Luna shook her head and broke into a grin. "Not at all. I mean I _like_ it." 

Neville raised his eyebrows quizzically, which Luna took as a cue that further explanation was needed. "This..." she gestured at the soft curves of Neville's stomach, the other side of his dressing gown shield, "is all telling me that you're content. And I can't think of anything nicer.

"In the war, you were stressed and everything was frightening; you couldn't bring yourself to eat very much. But now, you're relaxed, filled with optimism and happy-chubby. I think it's delightful. Show me?"

Neville kept a firm grip on the fabric. "That's very sweet of you, but-"

"-or more attractive." She looked up at him with a naughty glint in her eye: that particular glint that made Neville's cock stand to attention every time he saw it.

Neville gasped, but didn't move.

"You still look skeptical," Luna said, calmly, sinuously, "so I'll explain. I always figured that being on the plump side was your natural state, my dearest. Is that right?"

Neville thought back to his childhood holidays and the round tummy he had always carried at Hogwarts. "I guess so."

"Mmm," said Luna. "So, given that I find _you_ attractive, you in your most natural state is even _more_ attractive, as far as I'm concerned. It's like I get to experience an even more authentic version of the real Neville... in full glory." She grinned. "And, secondly – well, I just think you look delicious. Or at least, I _think_ I'll think you look delicious, if you ever put down that dressing gown!"

Neville laughed, and fiddled with the upper hem.

"So, may I enjoy you?" She gave him such a lovely smile; the sort that warmed his heart to its very cockles.

Neville couldn't possibly refuse. From years of conditioning, he still felt self-conscious, though; the image of his chubby self in the mirror flashed in his mind. Trepidaciously, he put aside his dressing gown – revealing his bulges and curves to Luna's gaze. -But at the same time, Neville sucked in his belly as much as he possibly could. He wasn't trying to be dishonest, exactly; it was more an automatic reflex, his nervousness taking hold.

Luna smiled and moved forward to give him the lightest kiss on the lips. She traced her fingers over Neville's chubby cheeks and chin, and pressed kisses there, too.

Then, she frowned slightly, sensing his tension; his stiffness in kissing her back. Luna stepped away a pace and regarded Neville's posture, breath locked closed, and the little-used muscles of his tummy straining and quivering as they fought to hold in his gut. She shook her head, as if kindly to say, 'this won't do', and then put gentle hands right in the middle of Neville's stomach.

Luna's touch was wonderful, but her overtly focussing on his chubbiest areas like that made Neville instinctively mortified. He tried to pull in his gut more, but it was futile, merely causing his flab to quiver beneath her fingers.

Luna frowned again, and began to rub small circles where his tummy was straining to hold itself in. "Relax, my dear. Let me see you. _All_ of you." Her voice was soft and earnest.

Neville heard, but still felt beyond bashful about it. He couldn't pretend much longer, though – his soft middle really wasn't designed to be held in like this – and...

"Trust me."

Luna's words echoed around Neville's bedroom and his brain. Of course he trusted her; he trusted her implicitly.

With a big intake of air, Neville let his stomach go. It pushed forward, inches and inches into Luna's hands, almost as if she were waiting to catch it, there. 

For Neville, it was a relief – a physical one and perhaps a mental one, too – even as the embarrassed flush spread further over his chest and cheeks.

Luna sensed his breathing returning to normal, and smiled. "That's better." All the time, she was looking at his rounded belly. With dainty fingertips, she explored his curves, seeming to delight in the task. She traced the pout of Neville's stomach above and below his navel, appreciating the softest there; she ran a tantalising touch along the semicircle of flesh that overhung Neville's waistband; she lingered on the thick handles of fat just above his hips, almost seeming to claim them – and him – for her own. "You're beautiful," Luna breathed.

Neville laughed, in a self-effacing sort of way.

"No, really," Luna insisted, with that earnestness of hers. "Anyone can look, you know, slim, or average. But like this, Neville, you're ravishing. Fulsome. Unique." She smoothed her hands across his stomach again, but this time, there was heat in her touch, massaging his flesh, and grabbing it by the handful. "Sensual."

Luna dived to kiss Neville, hard and hungry, her tongue pushing into his mouth. He groaned, and pulled her close, suddenly feeling alight. "Oh gods, I've missed you," he breathed – as Luna sucked and nibbled at his softening chin, his neck, then his nipple. "Aaah!" She smiled against his skin and did it again, this time fondling the chubby rolls at his hips, holding him close. 

Luna licked a path straight down Neville's tummy, agile fingers fondling his flesh as she went, seeming to delight in his warmth and the yielding texture. "You _are_ delicious, my love," she murmured.

Neville heard her words with something like awe – but he was also acutely aware of the urgency building in his blood. His cock was leaking through his underwear, just desperate to be touched. When Luna, on her knees, swiped a cheeky tongue along the overhang of his belly, Neville could barely stand the almost-nearly closeness.

However, he was denied relief. In a flash, Luna sprang to her feet, Vanished all of her clothes, and spread-eagled herself on his bed. "Come inside me."

But he felt slow again; almost punch-drunk. Neville was a very considerate lover; he would never usually dream of progressing things so quickly – not until he was sure that she was properly aroused, and was going to enjoy it. So far, he hadn't touched Luna at all. "But... are you ready?" he stammered.

Luna nodded impatiently. "Yes. Feel..." She beckoned him over, took his hand and guided it between her legs, where she was dripping wet. "Today, just the sight of you, and the feel of you, so plump and beautiful... it's enough..."

Neville gasped, mind reeling. He slid one finger into Luna. She clenched and cried, and he felt her tightness acutely on his soft hands; Neville made a note that chubbier fingers seemed to have their uses. 

He moved to touch her more, marvelling as Luna writhed on his fingers, so flushed and ready for him. In some corner of his brain that was not soaked with lust, Neville couldn't believe how he could have been so lucky. He had worried that the weight he had put on – his pudgy frame and pudding belly – would be a turn-off for her.

"Neville… now! I want you now…"

 _Gods_ , he was happy to oblige. Neville peeled off his underwear and clambered into her waiting embrace. Luna bucked upwards to be filled with his cock, needy and keening, and Neville sank down onto her lovely body, finding her mouth hot with kisses.

"Oh, my love, I can feel you _everywhere_ ," Luna breathed.

Neville reflected that she was right. His chubby parts filled in to her elegant dips and hollows such that they were more perfectly in contact, skin-on-skin, than ever before. It felt absolutely wonderful.

He began to thrust. His belly swayed and wobbled beneath him, and – now Neville had jettisoned all of those nervous thoughts – the momentum was great. He felt large and powerful, somehow – taking up space and honouring his love with his body; with _all_ of it. Luna wrapped her arms and legs around him, grabbing at his soft flesh and goading his plush arse with her heels. More than ever before, Neville felt that making love was a whole-body experience; he seemed to have millions more nerve-endings, and couldn't quite believe how Luna was pawing and grasping at him, as if he were the most desirable thing in the world.

In such a state, neither Neville nor Luna could last for long. She clenched around him one final time as Neville came with a shout, still and rigid and floating on air.

It seemed to take ages for Neville to return to earth, afterwards; he panted, trying to regain his senses, as his vision swum and his blood sang with joy. Eventually, he carefully rolled away to spoon by her side.

"That was _fantastic_ ," beamed Luna, snuggling close.

Still catching his breath, Neville nodded – while inwardly shaking his head at having found such a wonderful girl, who appreciated him in his 'natural state': fleshy, plump, content. And happy. Yes; so very, very happy.

"Do you really mean... you like me, like this?"

"Oh, you great silly!" Luna rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow, to look him in the eyes. "I _love_ you, no matter what your size. But, yes, your current appearance, I like very much." She caressed the swell of his belly, as he lay there, now open and relaxed. "Very much, indeed."

Neville felt Luna's hand on his tubby gut, and in his heart of hearts, believed her. A switch seemed to flip in his mind, and then, he was positively glowing. A huge grin blossomed on his face as Neville revelled in the idea of feeling comfortable in his own pudgy skin; he gave himself express permission to do so, and it was _wonderful_. If Luna really liked his chubby body, he could surely find some love for it, too.


End file.
